


Sunburnt mirth!

by Anonymous



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Seungwan goes to rescue a princess in her tower; it all works out in the end.





	Sunburnt mirth!

**Author's Note:**

> vague traces of homophobia and my will to live

The surrounding marshes smell something foul, sulfuric and not at all eddied by the southerly winds. The Wetlands lay beyond the fringes of the forest, and are the dwellings of legless lesser-creatures that have long shunned the company of men. It’s about a fortnight’s journey on foot and Seungwan is reduced to a dull thing at the end of it, well-worn and far too gone to turn back.

The waters are slicked-silver under moonlight, the moon herself high and aloft about the canopy of haze and clouds. There are reeds and milkweeds aplenty sprouting at the waterside. The milkweeds are in bloom, for they dare not deny the moon of their beauty, and the reeds have little to offer but to sway in worship to the moon. There  _is_ a kind of beauty, untouched, in this horrid place.

Seungwan settles where the soil underneath is firmer, more densely packed under the weight of tree roots. She makes a fire and gets to work sharpening her sword against a whetstone and carving notches into arrows. She thinks of the fabled princess in her tall, spiral tower made of weathered fire-clay bricks, and the great beast that guards it — the one she must slaughter.

She reclines into the rough bark of the tree, deeper into the night, and closes her eyes to restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Seungwan must admit, it’s somewhat of a surprise that there are  _two_  princesses sat in the shade, dressed in silks as shimmery as the surface of water in sunlight, and dyed rich colours — one a wine-purple and the other, an unbearable marmalade-orange. Seungwan pushes at her hair, knotted and unwashed from her travels, that has slipped free of its braid in her climb up the tower. Her feet and hands, swollen and scraped raw, are equally unguided.

Seungwan stumbles. “What — how —?”

The princess, the one in purple, puts her teacup down onto its saucer, blinking. Her now-vacant hands twist the fabric of her laps. “Oh.”

The one in orange is more (deceptively) at ease, though her eyes, so light a brown they’re almost gold, are fixed firmly on Seungwan’s heaving slouch.

This introduction is a little more undignified than Seungwan prefers, but the climb had been more tedious than she’d thought, and the suspicious absence of this ‘great beast’ made her all-the-more frantic in her scrabble to the high-arched tower window. There had been deep gouges in the stone there, and fiery scorches that had blackened the brick and left some ashy residue atop the ledge.

Seungwan exclaims, “ _Princesses_?”

The one in purple steps into the narrow slant of light the window admits, and Seungwan sees that her dress is not so dark a purple after all, but a shade closer to mallow flowers. Her features are delicate, pale as first snow, lips unpainted yet still pink from how she worries them with her teeth.

“You must be the knight prophesized to rescue me.”

“I know of no such prophecy,” the one in orange says warily. Her frown grows from cautious to accusing to surly. “You didn’t tell me anything about this prophecy.”

The purple princess takes stock of Seungwan, bent at the waist and with an asthmatic wheeze to her breath that is telling of the perils and hardship of the journey undertaken. She considers Seungwan shrewdly. Her lukewarm gaze is heavy upon Seungwan’s shoulders and the crown of her head, and it makes Seungwan’s heart turn-over in her chest.

“Because I did not expect it to come true,” the princess says, and turns to withdraw into the shade after her careful assessment. “It spoke of a knight, brave and gallant and fair, to rid me of captivity and to be loved by this — knight.”

“That’s a surprisingly straightforward prophecy,” the orange princess comments, brow ticking up.

The purple princess shrugs, “We can trade. I’m welcome to vague prophecies such as yours.”

“Er,” Seungwan says, feeling herself unmannerly for interrupting, “I beg your pardon?”

The purple princess says, to her fellow princess, “This knight is a little more backward than I had expected.” To Seungwan, she says aloud, “Speak, knight! Who are you and why have you come?”

“We’d just heard you recite your prophecy, Joohyun.”

“Yes, but it’s customary. Oh, yes, knight, speak.”

Seungwan, recognising this as an opportunity granted to her, straightens her back, as she has often seen kingly knights do, and clears her throat. Though she cannot help the slight rasp that clings to her words. The air here is thinner, high above the copse of trees.

“I am Son Seungwan, and I have come to rescue you, my lady.”

The orange princess leans forward in her steel-wrought chair, still stolen away from sun-rays. Her nails are long and sharp as they drum on the table, meant for Seungwan to see and be intimidated by. A threat lingers. It turns the air into something less than palatable.

“Rescue her from  _what_?”

“A great beast that was spoken of by many. Ugly and fire-breathing with sickle-sharp claws.”

“Oh really?” she says, very quietly. The drumming of her fingers has halted, only because the one in purple has placed her hand over them.

The one in purple, the one called Joohyun, speaks over them both, “Alright, now. Seungwan, was it? Right, I’m afraid I must decline your offer. I must remain here.”

The rejection washes over Seungwan in fits and starts. She had been ill-prepared for rejection and so was silent for time, mouth agape. What was she to do when a princess she’d so valiantly climbed a tower for rejected her? It is unheard of that a princess should grow too  _fond_  of their iron bars and high walls.

“What —  _here_? But you  _can’t_!” Seungwan gestures wildly about, at the forged-iron chandelier that is dusted clean of cobwebs, to the well-kept fireplace, to the tidy bookcases. “Can you?”

It seems relatively habitable, neat and pleasant, even. Breezy enough for the blisters of summer heat. Though Seungwan imagines it must be horribly cold come winter.

Joohyun smiles, for the first time since meeting, amused yet pitying, for all effort has been spent and wasted. It would have been easier to send a pigeon to declare that she is not available for any form of rescuing, but she’d long thought herself and her tower forgotten. And besides, men, as they are, would rather see it as an open challenge for her hand. And she can’t have that.

“I’ve lived here for quite some time now, knight. I do not intend to leave this place that I call my home.”

“Prisoners may say the same of their prisons!”

The teacups, made of pristine bone-china, rattle on the table as it is jarred violently. The woman’s eyes are harsh with anger. Her knuckles have whitened from her grip on the table, under Joohyun’s steadying hand. Seungwan’s hand flies too fast to the pommel at her waist.

It all happens very quickly, after. There is a flash of gold and orange that the princess(?) leaves in her wake as she lunges, animalistic and inhuman-like, toward poor Seungwan. Seungwan has barely managed to scramble back, the sword unsheathed with a soft hiss and held at the ready.

Joohyun cries: “Seulgi!”

Seulgi stops, but her glare is withering, so full of fire and contempt that Seungwan shrinks ‘neath its heat. This must be what solitariness has done to these women; driven them half-mad like wildlings and brigands. Seungwan is uncertain if she wants any part in it. But still, fate has already brought her so far, an empty-handed return is as good as an exile in shame.

When Seulgi speaks, her voice feels akin to the rumbling of thunder, of rocks sliding down sheer cliffs. “Did you intend to slay this ‘great beast’ with that puny thing,  _knight_?”

It is a good sword; forged from simple iron that is as reliable as it is inexpensive, and it has seen Seungwan through many adventures. It is a good thing, she reckons, that it is plain, for it keeps away the thieves and the envious.

“Seulgi,” comes a soft voice from behind, sounding very exasperated, indeed, “we mustn’t harm the girl.”

“Then perhaps we should not have picked such a conspicuous place to stay. A  _tower_? Really?”

Joohyun turns, a displeased frown upon her lovely face. “It was your idea as much as mine. You said it was easier to take flight from such great heights.” And apparently it is something of a sore subject, because Joohyun goes on: “Why are you begrudging me for something we both decided upon?”

Seulgi stiffens, just as stubborn and refusing to yield. “Well, you  _persuaded_ me! With your witchery!”

Joohyun stands. The chair scrapes along the stone floor to produce an awful sound. Neither flinches at the abruptness of it. Seungwan’s eyes flit back and forth between the two, feeling something else brewing and knowing fully well to keep out of it. Seungwan had come to smite a great beast, and now she has found something worse — two women arguing.

“Witchery?” Joohyun repeats, incredulous. “You must mean when I pushed you into the tree and had my way with you, you stupid lizard. You very much enjoyed it, I must also say.”

“Ha! So you admit, you had lain some enchantment on me! For there is no way I would allow myself to be publicly nude!”

“Oh, please,” Joohyun sneers. “You give yourself too much credit. You were tearing off not only your clothes but also mine. Did you know those were expensive mulberry silks my father had gifted me? And you tore them off like an uncivilised brute!”

The resulting glower that knits together Seulgi’s brows would frighten even the densest of dullards (Seungwan included), but Joohyun stood fast, with a similar intensity that matches Seulgi’s gathering in her eyes. They remain that way for several moments, though it seems like many suns have risen and set before she hears Seulgi’s breath catch, for it is very quiet save for birdsong, and the passing of midday into evening befalls upon them an unnatural kind of stillness.

Seulgi is swift-footed as she walks to Joohyun, only in a few steps, and takes her face into her hands and kisses her, deeply enough for either of the two to sigh softly. As though that is the end and answer to all arguments. Who is Seungwan to say what is and isn’t healthy?

(Even if her mama had told her once before that open communication is key to a successful relationship. And that is why she no longer has a father.)

The kiss is long enough for Seungwan to feel uncomfortable, so she looks away, to the made bed large enough for two, and blushes. She sheaths her sword, finding no use for it here.

Finally, Seulgi glances her way, and noting, “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“Oh, yes. There is a reason why we have decided to elope, and live so far-away from your kind. Well, I have always lived nomadically. But Joohyun had once been a crown princess.”

“I — it matters little, to me. The world is cruel enough the way we make it.”

“Hm,” Seulgi muses. “Wise words from a knight.”

“Well then, you must understand why I cannot come with you, Seungwan,” Joohyun says, kindly. Seungwan aches fiercely, for her name sounds so sweet on Joohyun’s tongue. “I am freer here than I will ever be living within those wretched walls. No offense intended, of course.”

Seungwan bows her head to concede the point. “Of course.” She lingers awkwardly for some time, then says, “I will — I will take my leave, then.”

She goes to uncoil her braided rope in her pack, finding some place to knot her rope around so she may descend the tower.

But then Joohyun asks, “What are you doing?”

Seungwan pauses. “I am leaving.”

“We have stairs. And a door,” Seulgi points out, nodding towards a darkly-painted door, ornate with bolts and gilded gold.

Seungwan drops the rope at once, feeling incompetent and embittered that all had been for naught. Her knees suddenly give, and so she finds herself seated on her haunches. Seulgi frowns, confused, but Joohyun steps forward to take the world-wearied knight by her shoulders to lie on their bed. Its frame is made of some white wood, and the sheets a welcome change from a bed of dried leaves and packed dirt.

“Well you are here now,” Joohyun says, gently unclasping Seungwan’s armour then removing the chainmail underneath, releasing her of their ungodly weight. She is close enough for Seungwan to smell the sweet rosewater scent of her barley-coloured hair. “It’s been a long while, but we are not ungracious hosts. Seulgi, fetch some water.”

Seungwan hears the door creak open and close. Through dry and cracked lips, she says, “What — what will become of me?”

“You will rest. Lie down,” Joohyun puts a warm hand over Seungwan’s collarbone and eases her gently down into the pillows. Goose-feather, feels like. “You will return to your people and say there is nothing to be found, no truth to these  _rumours_ ,” she says the word like a malicious thing. “But tonight, you will sleep, for you have my — our — thanks.”

It is all a very sweet relief.

 

* * *

 

Seungwan returns to her village bearing spoils from her journey south, covered in soot and well-earned scratches. She is mostly unharmed. In fact, she radiates worldliness and simple joy; some knowledge must have occurred to her during the span of her journey, something lost but also gained in greater measure.

The little devil comes running toward her, boot kicking up sand behind in her haste. “Unnie!”

Seungwan offers her hands, lifting Yerim up against her hip and kissing her hair, tangled from crawling through the undergrowth and smelling of the stables. Sooyoung stalls behind. She is more reserved in her welcome, offering a smile and a clap to Seungwan’s aching back.

She peeks over Seungwan’s shoulder, past the open gates and whistles. “No princess. No luck, unnie?”

Seungwan smiles. “I suppose she didn’t want to be found, this princess. Lucky or no.”

“Mama will be pleased to hear that.”

“What use has mama for a princess anyway? You two are more than enough to keep her busy all through the year.”

Sooyoung scoffs, while Yerim tugs at Seungwan’s earlobe for attention. “What have you brought us, unnie?”

She will declare the rumours unfounded later, to the townsfolk. Now, occasionally, she travels south, to a brick tower, to be greeted with love and affection, lying together for hours. Joohyun’s hair is now the colour of a red dawn, and the colder days disagree with her (for she is older than she lets on) but Seungwan and Seulgi are always there to curl around her, providing all that is possible to provide, life and soul and everything else in between. Seungwan learns of Seulgi’s bearish grip that nearly suffocates her in the night, as well as her snoring breaths that are hot enough to scald.

Seulgi has her arms, full of wiry strength, around both their shoulders. Joohyun’s hand rests atop Seulgi’s belly, and soon Seungwan laces her fingers with Joohyun’s there. And together, they sleep, wedded in devotion and kindred spirits.

There is peace to be found, if one looks for it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i like fairy-tales ok. especially the one where the knight, the princess and the dragon all fall in love with each other. because why not.
> 
> title from Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats, and because it's another way to pretentiously shout, "happiness!"


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